


Shelter From the Storm

by rubygirl29



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: satedan_grabass, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:36:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/pseuds/rubygirl29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Wings128's prompt: John and Ronon are holed up off world, an injury, their relationship's changed....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter From the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wings128](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wings128/gifts).



> For Wings128 for the Satedan_Grabass John/Ronon thing-a-thon, 2013.
> 
> I own neither Stargate Atlantis or the characters. Bob Dylan owns the lyrics and music to _Shelter From the Storm_. I only own my words.

_I was in another lifetime one of toil and blood_  
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud  
I came in from the wilderness a creature void of form  
"Come in" (you) said  
"I'll give you shelter from the storm". 

John stood with Ronon in the gateroom of Atlantis, waiting for the all clear for them to step through the gate. An _exploratory_ mission, Colonel Carter had called it. "We need to establish safety bases in case our primary alpha site becomes compromised. The Wraith have been quiet in this sector for too long."

"So we get to be the guinea pigs?" John asked as he zipped up his jacket. "You know how I love that."

"We already know the atmosphere is good, the planet seems to be uninhabited and judging from the geographical scans, there are sizable caverns that would provide shelter." Rodney was tapping away at his tablet. You'll be fine."

"Remind me again why you're not going?"

McKay held up his hand. "Broken finger, remember?"

Behind him, John heard Ronon shift and clear his throat. "I'm ready. Let's go."

Sam Carter turned and nodded at the tech as the sound of the gate activating sent vibrations through John's chest. The horizon erupted and subsided. John turned to Rodney. "What's the weather like out there?" Ronon was on his way through the gate and John barely heard, McKay's answer. "Rain and thunder. Nothing to worry about."

They emerged from the planetary gate in the midst of a rising storm. The air smelled like rain and wet earth. Lightning flickered in the distance and thunder growled deep and threatening. _Crap!_ , John thought. "Remind me to kill McKay. Let's go back." He went over to the DHD and hit the first symbol for Atlantis. Nothing happened. Unbelieving, he tried again. 

"What?"

"I can't dial out." 

Ronon held out his hand and pressed. Nothing.  


"I told you it was dead."

Instead of his usual reaction, which would be to take out his gun and shoot it, Ronon frowned thoughtfully and looked at the sky. It had a weird green glow and the storm clouds were lowering, chasing across the sky. The wind was moaning now, sad and wild and the lightning was definitely closer. "Might be the storm."

"I've never heard of a gate that was affected by the weather. The Atlantis gate kept working even during the superstorm we had the first year." 

"This isn't Atlantis."

"You ever see anything like this ... you know ... when you were running?" 

"Once. The gate shut down at night. Best night's rest I had since Sateda." His teeth gleamed. "Let's find those caves." 

The first drops started falling. "Good idea." He looked at his LSD. "This way."

By the time they reached the caves, the rain was a gale, staggering John back whenever it hit him full-on. The lightning was violent, the thunder constant and deafeningly close. The rain defeated John's weatherproof uniform and the soaking fabric was cold against his skin. What Rodney, and the MALP hadn't shown was that the gate was located near the entrance to a ravine, and he and Ronon were being funneled by the storm towards the caves. John had spent enough time in the Southwest to know the deadly consequences of being trapped in a gully during a rainstorm. The thought of a flash flood was quickly becoming an overriding concern. He quickened his steps to catch up to Ronon. 

"We need to get to higher ground, fast. This is a flash flood kill zone."

"Yeah. Got that." He winced as lighting flared and thunder cracked overhead, too close and too dangerous. He wiped the rain from his eyes. "How far to the cave?"

John brushed the display clear of rain. "Fifty yards." It sounded like a walk in the park, but the ground was slick and uneven. John's vibram soles on his boots weren't giving him the traction they normally did. 

He couldn't hear anything but the roar of the wind and the crack of thunder overhead. His haste made him careless and his ankle twisted as his boot slipped. He cried out, fell and hit his head on a rock. "Ronon!" He could taste blood in his mouth, a brief, warmth on his cheek before the rain washed it away. He closed his eyes. Had Ronon heard him? "Ronon!" His voice was weaker, or the storm louder. He couldn't tell which. 

"Sheppard!" Ronon was beside him. John felt his hands moving frantically over his body. "You hurt?"

John tried not to move his head. "Cracked skull, twisted ankle." He struggled to sit. Ronon slipped his arm under John's shoulders and picked him up. "Hey, I can walk," he objected.

Ronon huffed. "Don't think so, Sheppard." He carried John easily. His head lolling against Ronon's strong shoulder. He felt vaguely ill, chilled and disoriented. _Concussion_ he thought. That he was coherent enough to know that was something of a comfort. He buried his head against Ronon's chest to keep the rain out of his face. 

When he looked up, the mouth of the cave was mere steps away, then quickly they were in darkness and out of the rain. John unclipped the light from his P-90, fumbling at it with numb fingers. Ronon plucked the weapon away. "Give that to me before you drop it." 

"We need to get up higher," John said, thinking of the ravine and the danger outside. 

Ronon swept the flashlight around the cave. "People lived here," he said. "Steps."

They were low and wide. Easy to navigate."You can put me down now. My ankle isn't broken, just sprained."

"You're still bleeding from that cut."

"I'm okay. Put me down, Ronon." He did, setting John carefully on his feet, ready to catch him if his ankle buckled. He hissed with pain, but his boot gave him enough support to put weight on it. He wasn't so sure about it not being broken, but if it was, it was cracked not fractured. His head swam and he regretted losing Ronon's warmth. "Okay."

Ronon slid his arm around John's waist and they made their way up the stairs. They were littered with small rocks and rubble, but navigable. "I wonder when these were last used," John took the light away from Ronon. "Couple hundred years?"

Ronon shrugged. "I'd wonder what happened to them, but I know."

"Wraith?"

"Look." The beam played on a pile of bones. The leather jacket was rotting away, but John could see the telltale signs of a Wraith feeding. He shivered. "Let's keep going."

They climbed until they came to a wide landing. It was clear of rubble, about fifty meters over the floor of the cave and it showed no signs that water had rushed through it recently. "This looks good. "

Ronon lowered him gently. He took out an LED lamp from John's pack. It illuminated a small circle in the darkness around them. "Let me see the ankle." Over John's objections he carefully unlaced the boot. He slid it off. John's breath hissed sharply at the pain."Careful," he cautioned. 

Ronon's fingers were warm on his chilled skin, his touch light as he manipulated the ankle. "Can you move your toes?"

He could, but it still hurt and he didn't hold back on letting Ronon know. "Ow!"

"It's not broken. The cold kept it from swelling." He rustled through John's rucksack and came up with the first aid kit, which included a cold pack and an elastic bandage. He held the pack against John's ankle and wrapped the elastic around it. He pulled out a packet of ibuprofen. "Here."

John swallowed the pills down. "Thanks." He could still hear the thunder like a low, rolling rumble, and felt it deep in his chest. 

Ronon was dabbing at the cut on his temple. "Needs stitches."

"Dermabond. In the blue tube. Works like glue." 

Ronon held the tube out."This?" John nodded and held still while Ronon dabbed on the dermabond and taped a pad of gauze over the cut. The cold seemed to be working its way from his ankle through the rest of his body. He shivered even though the cave itself wasn't particularly cold.

Ronon took off his coat. The leather was damp but the lining was warm from his body. He covered John with it. It felt wonderful, comforting. "Don't let me sleep," he murmured. "I think I have a concussion."

"You don't have a concussion," Ronon growled at him. "You need food." He broke open two MRE's and started the heat packs. "Soup."

"Sounds good." He pushed himself upright and took the MRE. The chicken and rice soup wasn't good, but it was hot and salty. John ate, drank a cup of coffee. Ronon held out a Snickers bar, but John's stomach was still unsettled. He wrapped Ronon's coat around himself. He listened. The thunder was fading, but it was still audible. Ronon cleared away the remains of their dinners, then he told John to move.

"What?"

"Just move forward." Ronon slid his body behind John's; his long legs bracketing John's, his arms strong around his body. He pulled John against him. "Better?"

John wasn't sure in what context this was better. He wasn't freezing, but the closeness of Ronon's body, his scent and heat were making him dizzy and hyperaware of every movement; of Ronon's breath stirring his hair, of the slight scratch of his dreads against John's neck. It felt like Ronon was resting his chin against John's hair. His broad hands moved gently over John's arms, stroking, soothing. 

"Ronon?"

"Hmm." 

John tipped his head back against Ronon's shoulder. "Don't take this the wrong way, but right now, I kind of love you."

Ronon gave a soft chuff of laughter. The soft exhalation warmed the shell of John's ear. Ronon, instead of being annoyed, which John had expected, or repelled, which John would have understood, was watching him with soft eyes. He brushed the hair from John's forehead and kissed him there. His lips were soft, his beard rough. John sighed and his head tilted farther back. He touched the Satedan tattoo tentatively. 

"What does that mean?"

"Military tattoo designating rank." He looked away, flushing slightly. 

"Makes dog tags kinda sissy."

Ronon's smile flashed out. "Not every soldier got one. Only ... I guess you call them Special Ops?" He looked to John for confirmation. John nodded silently, waiting for Ronon to continue. "The Wraith didn't know that. It was safer for a while."

"Maybe that's why they made you a Runner?"

"Maybe." He fell silent and John wished he hadn't brought up the subject. His finger still rested on the ink. Ronon took his hand away and held it. "Don't want to think about it." 

He kissed John's fingers and it was like a shock that startled and then warmed. His hand moved to Ronon's cheek. "Okay?"

Ronon bent his head and kissed him. Salt, coffee, the sweetness of the chocolate, the taste that John knew was Ronon and would always be Ronon, now. He wondered if Ronon felt the same; If he had his own unique flavor. Ronon's tongue slid across the crease of his lips and what could John do but let him in? Ronon gave a soft hum of satisfaction and John tangled his fingers in the thick ropes of Ronon's dreads that were both soft and rough, with the beads and silken threads woven through them, cool and distinct to his touch. He slid his hand from Ronon's hair to the open collar of his shirt and laid his palm over his chest. His skin was soft over the hard bones of his clavicle. He felt Ronon's nipple pebble against his palm and when John flicked a nail over it, he tensed and broke the kiss. "Stop!"

John drew back, startled. "Ronon?"

"Just ... stop." He pulled away from John's touch. 

"Sorry. I thought ... We _kissed_ , and I thought ..."

Ronon frowned. "What?"

"Hey, if you don't want this ... I'd understand. Really."

"You thought I didn't want this ... you?"

"Well, yeah ... "

"You'e got a bad ankle, a head wound, and we're in a cave."

"That's all?"

The amusement in Ronon's eyes faded. "If we both want this, the first time shouldn't be like this. It should be warm and ... and safe."

"Safe?"

"I want you to be safe like you made me safe. I want to be in that place that we are both safe."

John swallowed. "It might be difficult for us."

"We will be sheltered from the storm." He kissed John softly. "Now, sleep." He wrapped strong arms around John, held him tightly, kept him warm. Sheltered him from the sound of thunder. John slept, safe. 

**The End**


End file.
